A while back (I’d link to it, but I’m lazy) I posted a blog about the different kinds of writers. As I’ve been dragged deeper into the publishing world, gotten some good experience (and some bad) under my belt, and infiltrated circles of writers I’d yet to discover, I’ve realized that list needed an update.

A good hacking with the ol’ ax, really.

Hack them all except two.

There are two kinds of writers in this world.

Those who know nothing, and those who KNOW they know nothing.

Those who know nothing are the worst. The mother-fucking, dog-shitting, ape-sucking, jiz-guzzling worst. Their work, their “writing,” their foray into the publishing world is overwrought with bullies. These bullies will go so far as OFFERING ADVICE and CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM. How could they? Those who know nothing know EVERYTHING. They may ask for a hint or two… maybe something that would improve their characters or marketing strategy. But really, all they want is a good, long stroke.

The Know Nothings thrust their egos into the already bullshit-soaked social media and beg for a tug. Just a little one to get them through to their next BORING release party.

This group–The Know Nothings–is home to the majority of the writing community. They don’t want to improve. Their projects are God’s gift to the world. Everyone else is wrong.

Thing is, though, everyone else thinks they’re assholes.

And they are. These writers…

God.

I know, as writers, we’re not supposed to shit on our kin. It’s a tough road to sow as a creator and we should be charging forth as companion soldiers in the war.

But, FUCK.

Okay. OKAY.

There’s this other group though, the rest of us, who know that we know nothing.

Literally, nothing.

Sure we can breathe. We can stuff food-shaped things into our mouth hole. We can (usually) find a toilet when we need to piss.

But when it comes to the craft, we know that there is ALWAYS

ALWAYS

ALLLLLWWWAAAYYYYSSSS

Something more to learn. To know. To cram into the brain meat with a shoehorn.

For us, the Know Nothing Assholes grate on our nerves.

On my nerves.

….

And that’s it. I know you were expecting some point or moral here, but all I’ve got is this:

Don’t be that guy.

Don’t be the asshole that thinks his writerly shit doesn’t stink.

Don’t think for even a microsecond that you know enough.

Most of all, don’t encourage those asshats that need coddling. Don’t stroke the ego.